“Are they truly Erie?”

“Cats!” He spat the word from his lips and his eyes blazed.

“And — Amochol!” I asked unsteadily.

“The Cat People creep with the Seneca high priest, mewing under the moon.”

“Then — he is surely here?”

“Aye, Loskiel.”

“God!” said I, now all a-quiver; “only to slay him! Only to end this demon-thing, this poison spawn of the Woman-Toad! Only to glimpse his scarlet rags fairly along my rifle sight!”

“No bullets touch him.”

“That is nonsense, Mayaro —